


Transformers Prime: Legends

by AllieVRoboGirl



Series: Transformers Prime: Legends [1]
Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Awkward Romance, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Manipulation, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unofficial Sequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2020-06-29 23:59:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19841254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllieVRoboGirl/pseuds/AllieVRoboGirl
Summary: Five years after the war, Cybertron is thriving and everyone who fought on Earth keep in touch but live their own lives. Knock Out has kept mostly to himself and is struggling with PTSD and depression, though he won't admit it. Working at Iacon Hospital with Ratchet is the only thing keeping him going, but constant rebuttal from other colleagues due to his past as a Decepticon has started to take its toll. After running into Smokescreen outside the hospital one day, things start to change for Knock Out in ways he never expected.





	1. New Life with an Unknown End pt. 1

**Author's Note:**

> Don't get me wrong, I liked RID (2015), but didn't feel like it was the best sequel to Transformers Prime. So I'm just going to pretend the events of RID took place in an alternate universe/timeline/whatever. This series is my very self-indulgent version of what happened after the war, and I hope it's enjoyable.

You never forget your first battle.

_A Seeker shot out of the sky, dead on impact._

The smells, the sounds, the sights...all working together to overwhelm you so much you find yourself unable to move.

_A building falls, killing soldiers on both sides._

Time seems to slow as you watch your comrades fight for a cause promising them the universe, believing in it completely even as they step over their own dead.

_Small fires merge into one monstrous beast, uncaring of those it ensnares as it moves across the battlefield._

I was a very different bot at the beginning of it all. I don't know what I was expecting, getting involved in a war. Truth is, I could have died in my first battle.

_Missile launched, heading right for me._

If it hadn't been for him.

**"Knock Out!"**

I'm bodily shoved to the ground, trance broken, missile screeching past, missing us by centimeters. Shaking my head, I look up to see my oldest friend and lover already back on his feet.

"Come on, we gotta get to cover!" Breakdown shouts over the din of the fight as he grabs my arm, dragging me up and forward. I don't think, I just follow, my partner protecting me all the way. We weren't in love yet, but you don't always have to be to save the ones you care about.

Taking refuge in the remains of a bombed-out building, Breakdown guards the doorway, shooting any enemy that dares to come close. I am hunched over in the middle of the floor, hands gripping my knees as I struggle to keep myself from passing out. The area starts to spin and I have to close my optics. Doubt stabs its way into my processor: _Maybe this was a bad idea. I shouldn't have brought Break into this. What if he dies because of me? Maybe we can-_

A hand, large but gentle, rests on my shoulder, causing me to snap my optics open.

"Hey," Breakdown speaks, his voice unusually soft, "We'll get out this, KO. Us against the universe, no matter where we are, remember?"

I straighten and look at him, his yellow optics simultaneously comforting and determined. An emotion I'm not yet brave enough to express swells inside me, making my spark beat faster and ache. All the doubt, the fear, everything, leaves my body and I feel ready to take on Primus himself. With my...with Breakdown at my side I know I can do anything. After he checks outside, we rush from the building as fast as we can.

And then reality, bitter, _bitter_ reality, starts slowly dissolving the dream. The environment fades, everyone vanishes, and all that's left is us. Reaching for his hand, a pained cry escapes my lips when I pass through it. He looks at me, deep sadness on his face as tears form in my optics.

I can't go through this again. I barely held it together the first time.

"Don't leave me," I beg, my voice cracking. _"Please."_

He doesn't have a choice. He disappears from my vision...

And then I wake.


	2. New Life with an Unknown End pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five years after the war, Cybertron is thriving and everyone who fought on Earth keep in touch but live their own lives. Knock Out has kept mostly to himself and is struggling with PTSD and depression, though he won't admit it. Working at Iacon Hospital with Ratchet is the only thing keeping him going, but constant rebuttal from other colleagues due to his past as a Decepticon has started to take its toll. After running into Smokescreen outside the hospital one day, things start to change for Knock Out in ways he never expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the plot begins. Onward!

He woke with a gasp, his right arm raised, claw straining and optics wet. It was happening again. Knock Out covered his face with his claws and tried to slow his spark rate.

One year. He had't had those dreams for _one year_. He thought he'd been getting better. What could've triggered it now?

Maybe...maybe it had been the memorial. Knock Out had visited after work yesterday; first time in two years. Everyone who had fought on Earth, standing side-by-side, flanking Optimus posing like a knight, hands grasping the hilt of his sword with the blade pointing down. Cliffjumper had been put there as well, most likely at the request of Arcee. The first time Knock Out had seen the memorial he'd felt odd about seeing a statue of himself (next to _Wheeljack_ , of all bots). He still felt odd. Sure he'd switched at the end, but was that really enough to warrant a statue? He lowered his claws and let out a sigh, staring at the ceiling. There had to be a way to stop the dreams. It was bad enough he was starting to get insomnia. 

**BEEP BEEP. BEEP BEEP.**

Knock Out nearly leapt off his berth when his alarm shrieked in his ears. Grumbling, he slapped the button to make it stop. He briefly considered taking the day off, but the hospital had been generous enough letting him work there at all. They could have just as easily said no. He heaved himself up and went to the kitchen. Pouring himself some energon, Knock Out flipped on the TV and sat at the table. The morning news was in full swing, and he half-listened to the reporter as he drank.

"Still no word on the disappearance of pop music sensation Rosanna, though we have been assured by the Iacon police department they are doing everything in their power to find her and bring her back safely. It has been five days since she was reported missing and so far no one has come forward to take responsibility. More to come after this special announcement."

Yawning, Knock Out finished his drink and went to toss the cup in the sink when a racing video on the TV caught his optic.

"...looks like Blurr has some competition! After rising steadily in the ranks, up-and-coming racers Smokescreen and Sideswipe have finished in the top three two seasons in a row! Though neither have finished first, many fans think it's only a matter of time before one of them dethrones the reigning champion."

Watching Smokescreen practically glide down the racetrack, weaving through other racers with ease, like he was made for this, caused Knock Out to smile. He missed proper racing. Driving as fast as possible, cutting off others in a split-second, the feeling of elation crossing that finish line first...there was nothing like it. Earth had only eased him so much, and there was no way officials would let him race here. Shame really; watching Smokescreen on the track, all blue and shiny and excited, was beautiful.

His _racing_ was beautiful, not...Knock Out shook his head and kicked that thought out of his mind. He had to go to work.

***

Though he lived an hour away from the hospital, Knock Out didn't mind the commute. Highway driving was usually smooth and uneventful even on a busy day. Switching on his radio, he scrolled through channels until he found one of his favorites. 

"You just heard 'See Your Eyes' by Rosanna, may our beloved pop princess come home safely. This is DJ Blaster for channel 107.9 The Riot, playin' all kinds a' music for all kinds a' bots. We're halfway through our ever-popular Request Hour, so get your requests in soon and we can get jammin'! This next one's from Tracks of New Crystal City, bringin' some class to the airwaves. Here's 'Words Are Not Enough' by Solar Star!"

Knock Out swore he felt his spark freeze. His vision blurred as he frantically turned off the radio. It was becoming difficult to stay in one lane; he had to pull over. He managed to signal and get out of harms way before trying to calm himself down. There was a ringing in his ears and he could feel himself shaking. Knock Out dug his wheels into the metal ground before mentally counting backwards from one hundred. 

_"One hundred...ninety-nine...ninety-eight..."_

Sometimes it helped, sometimes it didn't. Regardless, Knock Out had to ride this out; he was _not_ walking into work shaking _and_ sleep-deprived. He hated how that song had become a trigger for him. It had been special, meaningful even.

That song had been playing the first time Breakdown said he loved him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Knock Out _will_ have dialogue soon, don't worry!


	3. New Life with an Unknown End pt. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five years after the war, Cybertron is thriving and everyone who fought on Earth keep in touch but live their own lives. Knock Out has kept mostly to himself and is struggling with PTSD and depression, though he won't admit it. Working at Iacon Hospital with Ratchet is the only thing keeping him going, but constant rebuttal from other colleagues due to his past as a Decepticon has started to take its toll. After running into Smokescreen outside the hospital one day, things start to change for Knock Out in ways he never expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally some conversation!

Though still a little off-balance, Knock Out made it safely to Iacon Hospital. As he pulled up to the front entrance, he heard a voice crackle through some loudspeakers.

_"Please transform in the designated areas." ___

It was on an automated loop that spoke the same message every ten seconds. Knock Out changed into his bipedal mode and started walking. He looked up at the giant, gleaming building and marveled, not for the first time, that he was working at one of the most prestigious hospitals on Cybertron. Not only was it huge, there was also a landing pad on the roof and so many medics and nurses there was hardly any wait time. He stopped at the memorial column just before the front doors. Standing on top of the column, hands on her hips and wearing a face of determination, was Lifeline, the first well-known medic of the Golden Age. She had been so popular medics and even medic students joked that she was the 'patron saint of medicine.' Unfortunately, she hadn't been seen or heard from since the start of the war. 

The memorial wasn't just for her; beneath her feet and covering all four sides of the column were the names of all medics and nurses lost in the war. A quote that had been placed above all the names read: “Not a day goes by when you are not loved and missed. Held in our sparks forever.” Crystal flowers, vibrant blue and yellow Forget-Me-Nots, had been planted around the column's base. Knock Out did his best not to glance at the names. The first time he'd read it he saw a name he was not prepared for and his reaction had been...

Well, needless to say, his first day on the job had started the day after.

He walked through the doors and was greeted with the white noise of a typical day; receptionists making appointments over the phone or directing bots to their destinations, nurses on break chatting about how their shifts were going, patients checking in or out and talking to various medical personnel, and soft music playing from hidden speakers barely heard over the din. Knock Out allowed himself a moment of peace, of feeling like he was home, before going further into the lobby. Out of the corner of his optic he saw Ambulon, one of the head medics, leading a group of med students to a private practice room. Towards the back, a small red and white bot was struggling to keep up and carry an armful of data pads at the same time. Suddenly he tripped and faceplanted hard on the tile, scattering the pads. Knock Out winced and went over to him.

"Oh my goodness, I'm sorry!" the small bot fretted as he tried to gather his items. "Sorry, sorry, sorry, I'm such a _klutz_ , I'm so _stupid_ , how can I be a medic when I can't even stop myself from tripping over _nothing_ -!"

"Apologizing to inanimate objects again, Aid?" Knock Out asked, startling the bot.

"O-oh, Knock Out! Hello!" First Aid said, "You know I can't help myself."

"Relax, I'm just teasing," Knock Out replied, smiling as he helped collect the data pads.

He'd first met Aid when the young bot had been halfway through his last year of med school. Interestingly, Aid sought him out and had timidly asked if he could watch his work. Knock Out had been assigned to the Psychiatric Ward at the time, so it had been an unusual request, but he allowed the young bot to observe. In the four years Knock Out had been working at the hospital, he and Aid had become something akin to friends, chatting about anything and everything when they could. First Aid was now well into his residency program and was shaping up to be a very skilled medic.

"Well, at least you're not most of my classmates; they mock me about it every chance they get."

"Sorry to hear. You know these are easier to carry when they're not... _askew?"_

Rearranging the data pads so that they were all straight, Knock Out had to stop himself from chuckling at the awe-struck expression on Aid's face. The young bot looked like he'd just seen the birth of a universe. Clutching the data pads to his chest, Aid was about to say something when a stern voice echoed across the hall.

_"First Aid."_

Ambulon stood a few feet away, arms crossed and foot tapping methodically. His expression was steel. 

"We're _waiting_ on you," he stated tersely.

"Ah, okay, be right there, sorry!" Aid replied, a tad embarrassed. He turned back to Knock Out and muttered, "I know he's a good instructor, but I swear, sometimes he can be such a _gearstick_."

"Don't I know it. You better get going."

"Thank you for your help! Have a good day!"

First Aid skittered away and entered the room behind Ambulon. The head medic gave Knock Out a long, hard look before turning to follow. Knock Out rolled his optics. It was no secret that the majority of his co-workers didn't like him, but that testy, scruffy-looking bot seemed to outright _despise_ him. It wasn't as if that kind of reaction wasn't expected, but what bothered Knock Out the most was how _familiar_ Ambulon looked. There was something about the head medic he couldn't quite put a finger on. He wasn't sure if it was his shape, uneven paint job, or the fact that he refused to show anyone his alt-mode. Knock Out had tried looking him up some time ago, but the data on him only went back as far as his early school days, and even then he looked middle-aged. What kind of life had Ambulon led?

"Knock Out, there you are."

He turned to see Ratchet coming towards him. 

"Come with me, you have a new assignment."

Making a noncommittal noise, he followed Ratchet past the reception desk to the elevators. They stepped inside one and Knock Out leaned against a wall as the older bot pushed a button. He looked at his claws when the elevator started to move.

"So, who gets stuck with me today?" he asked.

"Surgery Department."

Knock Out nearly fell off the wall.


	4. New Life with an Unknown End pt. 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five years after the war, Cybertron is thriving and everyone who fought on Earth keep in touch but live their own lives. Knock Out has kept mostly to himself and is struggling with PTSD and depression, though he won't admit it. Working at Iacon Hospital with Ratchet is the only thing keeping him going, but constant rebuttal from other colleagues due to his past as a Decepticon has started to take its toll. After running into Smokescreen outside the hospital one day, things start to change for Knock Out in ways he never expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Attempting to do the intro in five parts, kind of like a homage to how TFP started, but I may have to add more. Also, I'll try to post once a week, but the exact day might change often.

"You won't have anything major for now, just a few detached limbs here and there..."

Knock Out barely heard him; he was too busy fending off _another_ anxiety attack. 

He focused on one of the elevator buttons and mentally started listing off what he noticed: _"Circle...perfect circle...white circle...black number...black number six..."_

One of the main reasons he'd been allowed to work at the hospital was by promising not to go anywhere near surgery. He even had to sign a form to make it official. Secretly Knock Out had been relieved; he hadn't used his built-in weapons since the war ended, and he intended to keep it that way. Of course that made him wonder if tools would be provided or if he'd be forced to use his built-ins.

"Knock Out?" Ratchet gently touched his arm and he flinched away. The older medic lowered his hand. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm...fine," Knock Out managed to say, "Rough night."

"Did your nightmares come back?" Ratchet asked, optics narrowing.

" _Primus_ , I never should have told you about those," he griped, trying to keep his voice level. "No, they're not back, I just had a hard time sleeping. Why do you always have to be on my aft?"

"I'm _concerned_ about your _health_ , Knock Out. Need I remind you of the time I found you in a hallway, shaking and passed out?"

He turned away, not answering. That...had been a bad day. He'd been halfway through his shift when a scream came from the Pediatric Ward. Most likely just a fussy sparkling, but suddenly Knock Out had been transported back wartime Cybertron, in the depths of the Decepticon torture chambers, standing over bots with his energon-stained saw and drill. He watched his past self slice through living metal, making sure his victims were alive to feel every cut, every stab. No matter how hard he tried, Knock Out couldn't look away from the version of himself taking pleasure from the pain.

The next thing he remembered was waking up on the floor being fussed over by a worried Ratchet. He'd had very, _very_ few major episodes since, but as the saying went, you never forget your first time.

"I'm _fine_ , Ratchet," Knock Out said, a bit weakly, "I'm just tired."

The older medic looked at him, mouth in a thin line and optics clouded with concern.

"Look, I...I have a friend that can help you," he finally said, taking out a small data stick and holding it out. 

Knock Out looked at it apprehensively. It read: 'Rung. Therapist Specializing in Multiple Fields. Tap to Make an Appointment Today.' He ran a claw down his face. 

"Primus above, I don't need-"

"Just promise me you'll think about it."

Knowing that the older medic would just keep pushing the issue, Knock Out let out an agitated sigh and took the data stick. The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Ratchet stepped out first and Knock Out was about to follow when he heard it.

"You know he's right. Things will only get worse unless you get help."

Breakdown. Breakdown's _ghost_. He'd forgotten; with the nightmares came the ghosts. Refusing to turn around, Knock Out stared straight ahead and stiffly exited the elevator. The only acknowledgment he gave the apparition was a whispered sentence:

"I told you not to bother me at work."

Then he walked away. 

***

New assignment, same routine. Any and all ex-Cons admitted got sent directly to Knock Out (because Primus forbid the other medics so much as glance at them). He would have been overwhelmed if Ratchet hadn't been helping. The older medic was the only one besides Aid that was genuinely nice to him. They made working at the hospital bearable...most of the time. 

His mood improved a bit after seeing some familiar faces in low-risk surgery: Barricade, an older bot who he'd thought dead, was on the police force and had a not-so-subtle crush on Bumblebee (which Knock Out thought was amusing), Scavenger, still with the Constructicons, was working alongside them currently rebuilding some neighborhoods (while also taking the time to flirt with Long Haul), and surprisingly, Sunstorm, who'd managed to get his unstable solar power under control due to Acid Storm, the 'love of his life,' as he put it. Knock Out's mood started dipping again at the end of the day, most likely due to all the romance talk. He hadn't considered dating since the war ended. He hadn't considered ever being in a relationship with anyone that wasn't Breakdown.

Could he even be with someone else without feeling like it was wrong?

"You _really_ need to move on from me."

Knock Out groaned.

"I thought I told you not to bother me at work," he hissed silently.

"You're not at work, you're _outside_ work."

True as that was, Knock Out still didn't want to be speaking with him. It. The ghost was an It. Saying 'him' made his spark ache. He took out the data stick and frowned at it before going over to a trash can. 

"Please tell me you're not throwing that out."

"I don't need therapy, I'm fine."

"Says the bot talking to a voice in his head."

" _You_ are not _my_ fault. You come and go as you please, I have no control over that."

"That's not true and you know it. Just go to _one_ session, KO, how can that hurt?" 

"It's not...I...ugh!"

Knock Out shut his optics and rubbed his temples before saying, "You just...don't understand." 

He could practically _feel_ the look of pity the ghost was giving him.

"I do understand." 

Then the ghost shifted his/its head and saw something. He/It grinned.

"And here comes an opportunity to take a step forward."

Knock Out was confused until he turned and felt his spark lurch. 

Smokescreen was coming towards him, all blue and shiny and excited.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Please_ let me know if I'm portraying mental illness properly, I don't want to offend anyone.


	5. New Life with an Unknown End pt. 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five years after the war, Cybertron is thriving and everyone who fought on Earth keep in touch but live their own lives. Knock Out has kept mostly to himself and is struggling with PTSD and depression, though he won't admit it. Working at Iacon Hospital with Ratchet is the only thing keeping him going, but constant rebuttal from other colleagues due to his past as a Decepticon has started to take its toll. After running into Smokescreen outside the hospital one day, things start to change for Knock Out in ways he never expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Got some early romance feels in this one, hope you enjoy!

Knock Out hid the data stick as Smokescreen approached. 

"Hey KO, just getting off work?"

"Yeah, been a long day, thinking about heading home."

He tried not to look directly at those innocent blue optics; those bright, shining crystals threatening to draw him into the unknown.

"Already? There's still plenty of daylight left! You look beat, why don't I treat you to something?"

Smokescreen grabbed a claw before Knock Out could answer and started tugging him away from the hospital. Knock Out would have protested if the younger bot hadn't laced their fingers together and rested his other hand on the red bot's wrist. The casual contact and close proximity nearly made Knock Out's face flush, but he managed to keep it down to a light dusting. Granted, his voice ceased functioning, and when he tried to speak all that came out was static. Why was he reacting this way? It wasn't as if Smokescreen was his first crush, but this level of awkward nervousness made him feel like bashful sparkling. 

"So I discovered this pretty cool place about a year ago, serves the _best_ energon goodies and the drinks always hit the spot," Smokescreen said, doorwings flapping with happiness. Knock Out struggled not to think that was cute. "Since the weather's nice, I was thinking we could get a table outside. How's that sound?"

"Ah...that...sounds fine," the red bot muttered.

He had to look away from that wide, overjoyed smile, both genuine and far too honest. A hand squeezed his claw and Knock Out swore his processor stalled. He hadn't been this flustered since the first time he'd flirted with Breakdown. But he didn't see Smokescreen that way...right? Sure, he was well-built and wore his colors beautifully and was magnificent on the racetrack and being near him made Knock Out feel _normal_...

...okay, not helping. 

"Here we are!" Smokescreen announced, sweeping an arm. "Ta-da!"

A multicolored café stood before them, bright and inviting with gleaming windows and a modest sign above the entrance that read 'Shooting Star Café' in fancy letters. There was a notice posted on the front door: 'All bots welcome.' They were greeted with the pleasant white noise of various conversation as soon as they stepped inside. Knock Out was stunned to recognize several other ex-Cons talking and laughing as if they weren't still widely regarded as potential threats.

"Welcome!" A perky orange and yellow bot bounced over to them, nearly blinding them with her dazzling smile. "My name is Star Fire and I'm the owner here! Table for two?"

"Outside, if possible," Smokescreen said.

"Sure thing! Follow me!"

Star Fire led them to the back patio, practically skipping. She gestured to a table underneath the shadow of a crystal tree. Smokescreen stepped forward and pulled out a chair, looking expectantly at Knock Out. The red bot struggled to keep his blushing under control as he sat. 

"Your usual, sweetie?" Star Fire asked once Smokescreen had taken his own seat.

"Yes please! And one First-Timer Special as well," he replied.

"Coming right up!"

Knock Out raised an optic ridge after she scampered away. 

"First-Timer Special?"

"It's what all bots get when they visit the first time. Trust me, it's _awesome_." Smokescreen's doorwings then drooped a bit and he scratched his cheek awkwardly. "I...hope it's okay that I ordered for you. I should've asked, sorry."

Seeing the embarrassed look on the blue bot, Knock Out unthinkingly reached forward and grasped his hand.

"You don't have to apologize," he said gently. "I'm a stranger in unfamiliar territory. I trust your judgement."

A sunset red blush instantly overtook Smokescreen's cheeks and he widened his optics. He quickly looked down as his doorwings began fluttering happily. Knock Out had to hide a smile; how could someone who'd been to war still be so... _adorable?_ (Was it self-destructive of him to think that?) 

"Here you are!" Star Fire singsonged as she trotted up to their table and placed their food and drink in front of them. "Pay at the front when you're done! Enjoy!"

"Thanks, Fires!" Smokescreen proclaimed before turning back to Knock Out. 

"Is she always that...er, cheerful?" the red bot asked.

"Not always, but she's been a _lot_ happier since her transition."

"Oh?"

"I've only known Fires as she is now, but she told me that her old self made her feel so uncomfortable she'd briefly considered-" Smokescreen paused, looked around, then leaned in and whispered, "- _specific self-mutilation_."

Knock Out blinked in surprise. "Is it always that bad?"

"It's different for everyone, but she had to live with her old self longer than she wanted because it took her a while to save up for the surgery."

"That's...well. And she's truly happy now?"

"Oh definitely! She even told me she might be dating someone soon."

"She seems very open with you."

"I think I just have a knack for making people comfortable."

"Considering you're the embodiment of kindness, I'm not surprised."

There was a lapse in conversation that lasted long enough for Knock Out to internally panic ( _'Where did that come from?! I can't believe I said that!'_ ) before Smokescreen reacted. His blush was so intense it covered his entire face. His doorwings pointed up and appeared still, but a closer look revealed they were shaking. Then an embarrassed, giddy smile emerged on his face and he looked down, unable to form words as his doorwings quivered more obviously.

Knock Out felt like pinching himself; he'd made Smokescreen _speechless_. His spark thumped wildly at the idea. The blue bot looked up again, blush still prominent, and awkwardly spoke.

"I...t-thanks...you...you make my day every time we talk."

Now Knock Out was at a loss. A pleasant loss. His face was burning and he knew he was wearing a small smile. 

"Thank _you_. I'm...not sure I've ever been told that."

They stayed at the café for long time, not fully realizing their hands were still intertwined on the table.

***

"You didn't have to drive me home, you know," Knock Out said.

Both of them idled in the doorway, a scant amount of space between their bodies. Heat radiated from their EM fields and intermingled pleasantly in the space that was there.

"I know, I just..." Smokescreen shifted awkwardly. "...didn't want to leave you."

Knock Out had to chuckle.

"Rather bold."

"Should I stop?"

" _Absolutely_ not."

A comfortable silence settled around them. Smokescreen looked like he wanted to say something but was torn about it. Knock Out took a small step forward in a effort to encourage him, causing their foreheads to touch. They both felt a zing at the contact and shivered. When Smokescreen started closing the gap, the red bot fluttered his optics closed. He wasn't sure if he was ready for where this was going, but-

His optics snapped open as a soft mouth left a gentle kiss on his cheek, lingering for a moment before pulling away. Knock Out had to forcibly restrain himself from going after that mouth, clamping down on a wave of disappointment that threatened to bubble up from his core. 

"Um...do you think you could come watch me race tomorrow night?" Smokescreen asked hurriedly, suddenly anxious and twitchy. 

"I...I'm not sure they'll let me-"

"Please? It would mean a lot if I saw you there."

Knock Out slumped his shoulders; how was he supposed to say no to such an earnest face?

"Well...alright. I'll be there."

His spark clenched at the relieved smile Smokescreen gave him. The blue bot placed a V.I.P pass in his claws, kissed him on the forehead, and said goodnight. Knock Out watched as he drove away, still looking even after he couldn't see him anymore. When he finally went inside, he slumped against the door and slid down until he was sitting. He sat there, clutching the pass to his chest, for what seemed like hours.

Sleep evaded him for a completely different reason that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, I seriously want these two to just...make out already! *shakes fist at necessary plot*
> 
> Thank you for all the Hits, Kudos, and Comments so far! I honestly wasn't expecting this much traffic but it's greatly appreciated!


	6. New Life with an Unknown End pt. 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five years after the war, Cybertron is thriving and everyone who fought on Earth keep in touch but live their own lives. Knock Out has kept mostly to himself and is struggling with PTSD and depression, though he won't admit it. Working at Iacon Hospital with Ratchet is the only thing keeping him going, but constant rebuttal from other colleagues due to his past as a Decepticon has started to take its toll. After running into Smokescreen outside the hospital one day, things start to change for Knock Out in ways he never expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one's late, my current job always leaves me physically and emotionally drained of all motivation to do anything. But here it is now, so enjoy!

He was awake before his alarm again. Another nightmare, another fitful night. Part of him had hoped that the events of yesterday would've allowed him some peace, but no such luck. Knock Out swore he felt worse today; the dark presence over his head (which had been a mainstay for the past five years) felt heavier than normal. As he struggled to get off his berth, he heard his cell phone buzz on his nightstand.

Picking it up, Knock Out blinked at what he was seeing on the screen. Ratchet had sent a blunt text saying **'Watch the news. Take a different route to work,'** and Smokescreen had sent several texts within seconds of each other that were varying degrees of **'I'm sorry'** and **'I should have known better.'** Puzzlement and anxiety swirled in his spark as he went to turn the TV on. He was provided with context after a few minutes.

"The top story in celebrity gossip today features up-and-coming racing star Smokescreen seen about town with a new flame! Anonymous sources say his new beau is none other than ex-Con Knock Out! Guess this youngster's trying his luck with quite the controversial crowd!"

 _'Scrap,'_ Knock Out thought, leaning on a wall for support. _'No wonder he was apologizing so much.'_

He watched as pictures of them together flashed across the screen, though thankfully it looked like none of them had been taken near his home. Out of context, it really did look like they were on a date, and the media was playing it up as if it was the most important thing since rust repellent. He switched off the TV and rubbed his temples in a vain attempt to stave off his growing headache. Suddenly his phone buzzed again. This time there were messages from the others.

**'Uh, saw the news, bots at work asking questions, what's going on???'**

Bulkhead.

**'You and Smoke a thing now? Nice haul, red. Let me know if you wanna borrow any high-grade.'**

Wheeljack.

**'KO, Smokey's not answering his phone, is what they're saying on the news true? Text or call me please!!!'**

Bumblebee.

**'I am not usually one who pays attention to frivolous celebrity news, but with all the commotion this morning I have not had a choice. Contact me to verify or negate these claims at your earliest convenience so I may have some peace.'**

Ultra Magnus.

Knock Out was too overwhelmed to answer any of them right now. He did a double take and squinted at his phone. Why wasn't there...?

A knock at his door made his spark freeze. Had reporters found him already?

"Knock Out, it's Arcee. I'm here to help."

Relieved, he opened his door to see the two-wheeler standing there with her hands on her hips. Behind her stood a tall green bot who kept glancing around and giving him the side-eye. 

"That's Springer, he's with me," Arcee explained, "Ratchet told us you were going to need protection."

"This explains why I didn't get a text from you," Knock Out said, stepping outside. 

"We should get going," Springer stated. "It's only a matter of time before the press find this place."

"Well he's charming," Knock Out muttered to Arcee as the green bot transformed.

"He's just in business mode," she muttered back. "He'll lighten up once we get you to the hospital."

They transformed and started driving while Springer flew above them. Arcee had started a bodyguard business a few years ago called Credible Guardian Services (CGS for short) and it had become one of the top successful businesses on Cybertron. Knock Out had even heard she'd hired a few ex-Cons. Breakdown probably would've enjoyed a career like that.

 _'Urg...don't think about him,'_ he scolded himself, feeling the dark presence weigh on him further. _'Just focus on what's in front of you.'_

***

Though they'd been pursued by a few members of the press (and subsequently shoo'd away by a stern Springer), they made it to the hospital without much incident. That being said, Knock Out froze when he saw the horde of reporters gathered around the entrance, cameras flashing while a barrage of voices fought to be heard. He didn't transform right away because he was afraid that his sudden elevated spark rate would make him dizzy and he'd end up falling. Part of him felt like turning around and hightailing it back home as fast as possible. 

"Trying to avoid difficult topics again?"

Breakdown...as if he didn't have enough to deal with. Knock Out transformed with a grunt and glared at the ground. 

"I'm not talking to you," he hissed. 

A hand gently touched his arm and he snapped his head up. 

"You okay?" Arcee asked.

"Ah...y-yeah, I'm fine," he replied, attempting a weak smile. 

"...Alright. Stick close to us, and whatever you do, _don't_. _Say_. _Anything_."

With Arcee on his right and Springer on his left, they swiftly approached the reporters. As soon as the throng saw them they swarmed around like scraplets on a corpse and began asking rapid-fire questions. The shouting, camera flashes, and constant movement caused a wave of intense dizziness and a loud ringing in his ears. His vision blurred and he raised one hand to cover his optics. Suddenly a deafening silence surrounded him and he felt his movements become sluggish. Knock Out was barely aware of reaching the front doors and having them opened by two taller bots (associates of Arcee's, maybe?). He did hear snippets of them talking:

"Tarnation'...haven't seen this kinda crowd since tha' gran' re-openin' a' Maccadam's."

"Thank Primus I upgraded my force fields last week. This is _crazy_."

As soon as Knock Out was inside the hospital and the doors closed behind him, time resumed its normal pace and he could hear and see properly again, though he was still fairly rattled. He leaned on Springer a bit and the green bot allowed it, even held his claw. There was a clattering of quick footsteps and a small red-and-white blurr collided with his midsection just before Arcee moved to intercept. 

"Ohmygoshareyouokay?!?!" a high-pitched voice asked.

"Aid, easy," Knock Out said, placing his claws on the smaller bot's shoulders. "I appreciate the concern but I'm fine."

"It's just everyone was talking and then the reporters were here and-"

" _First Aid_. I'm okay, everything's just been blown out of proportion."

Aid looked up at him with worried optics and then buried his face in his chest, hugging him as tight as he could. For a brief moment Knock Out felt an overwhelming fondness for his little friend.

"Glad you made it here safely."

Knock Out looked up to see Ratchet coming towards them. He was about to say more when Ambulon suddenly shoved past him.

" _You_ ," he snarled, "It was bad enough that everyone was distracted with you here _at all_ , and now we have to be distracted further by this...this _media circus?!?!_ "

Arcee cut in front of Ambulon and firmly placed a hand on his chest, halting his approach. 

"Not another step-"

"You're not satisfied unless all optics are on you, is that it?!" he continued shouting while ignoring Arcee completely, "Primus forbid you go one day without-!"

"Stop it!" First Aid yelled suddenly. With more courage than he'd ever shown before, he snapped at Ambulon, "Go _shove a catheter up your aft and leave him alone!_ "

Everyone stared at the little bot, trembling with suppressed anger and fear as he tried to collect himself. Ratchet grabbed a stunned Ambulon by the shoulder and yanked him backwards. 

"Get back to your post," he ordered.

"I-"

"Get. Back. To. Your. _Post._ _**Now.**_ "

Ambulon was **a** head medic. Ratchet was **the** head medic. As the disgruntled bot shuffled away, Ratchet let out a deep sigh.

"I think it would be best if you stayed in your office today," he stated gently.

"Right," Knock Out replied, not focusing on anything. He felt like he was on autopilot.

"Um, I'll take you there if you'll follow me," First Aid spoke to Arcee and Springer, back to his nervous self. 

"That would be very helpful, little one," the green bot said with a half-smile. "Lead the way."

First Aid suddenly blushed and swiftly turned around, muttering incoherently. When they got there, Knock Out thanked them and told them to go and that he'd be fine before closing the door. 

He really needed to be alone right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They only use comm links for work purposes post-war, so yes, they have cell phones. 
> 
> Can you guess who made the voice cameos in this chapter?


	7. New Life with an Unknown End pt. 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five years after the war, Cybertron is thriving and everyone who fought on Earth keep in touch but live their own lives. Knock Out has kept mostly to himself and is struggling with PTSD and depression, though he won't admit it. Working at Iacon Hospital with Ratchet is the only thing keeping him going, but constant rebuttal from other colleagues due to his past as a Decepticon has started to take its toll. After running into Smokescreen outside the hospital one day, things start to change for Knock Out in ways he never expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I haven't forgotten this, was just waiting for my motivation to return! Going to be a very unreliable author for a while, sorry! 
> 
> TW: Brief self-harm in the beginning.

One benefit of being a doctor was knowing how to make a wound almost invisible. Another was knowing where to cut to ensure minimum energon loss. 

Knock Out steadied his venting as he nicked his sides with his claws. He knew this wasn't healthy, but the act of hurting himself calmed him faster than...well, anything. Once he'd made three fresh wounds on each side, he leaned against the wall and closed his optics for a moment. He could almost _feel_ his anxiety seeping out of the wounds and dissipating into the air. Why did a temporary solution have to feel so good? Shaking his head, Knock Out stepped away from the wall and took out his medical tools to seal the cuts. Once he was done, a claw brushed the data stick containing information about the therapist. He winced and pushed it out of his mind. 

"You can't keep doing this Knock Out," Breakdown's Ghost said.

"Go away," the sports car muttered. 

"Knock Out, please-"

"Leave me alone! You're not..." His voice hitched and he cleared his throat. "You're not here. And I have work to do."

The emptiness of the room weighed heavily on his shoulders.

***

Things seemed to have settled down when he left the hospital at the end of his shift. He did get some looks from passerby's, however. Standing on the sidewalk, Knock Out debated just going home and collapsing on his couch, but the VIP pass for the evening's race was burning a hole in his armor, and part of him wanted to see Smokescreen in action. He let out a heavy ex-vent, transformed, and drove to the race track. 

As he pulled up, he could hear random bouts of cheering, even though nothing had started yet. He also noticed a small group of bots near the entrance, holding signs and chanting something. There were some police bots nearby but they didn't seem to be doing much. Transforming, Knock Out saw a flash of yellow and realized he recognized one of them and made his way over.

"What's going on, bug?" he asked.

Bumblebee spun around and widened his optics.

"Knock Out!" he exclaimed, wrapping him in a firm hug.

"H-Hey, watch the paint!" Knock Out said, laughing.

"Are you okay?! You didn't respond to my text, I had to hear things from _Ratchet!_ "

Whoops. He knew he'd forgotten something.

...Which also meant he hadn't replied to Smokescreen. Poor bot must've been fretting all day. 

"I'm fine, I'm fine. It's not like it was an _angry_ mob."

Bumblebee snorted and half smiled. 

"Yeah, thank Primus." 

Someone cleared their throat behind them.

"Um, sir?"

They turned and saw a tall, anxious-looking blue-and-white bot accompanied by a more relaxed purple one.

"I hate to interrupt sir, but I must remind you that we are still on duty for the next hour and twenty-three minutes."

The purple one rolled her optics and let out a groan.

"Nothing's gonna _happen_ , Strongarm, will you lighten up a little?" she snapped, gently smacking a blue-and-white arm.

"Nightra, Article 2 Section B-12 clearly states that all law enforcement must be on high alert no matter what-"

"At ease, officers," Bumblebee cut in, silencing them both. "We've dealt with this group before and they haven't turned violent yet. We can keep our optics on them and relax a bit at the same time. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir!" they replied, saluting. 

"Okay. Go back to your posts and I'll be along in a moment."

Knock Out whistled as they left. "Now _that_ was impressive. What's your rank again?"

"I'm...the Captain, actually," Bumblebee said, suddenly bashful.

"Surprised you're not running the place, considering..."

"Oh, that's...that's not really my thing, I...I'm fine where I am."

"Sure...anyway, the group?"

"They call themselves the 'Equal Opportunity Racers,' and basically they're advocates for female bots and ex-Cons being allowed to race professionally. From what we've gathered, their leaders are a female named Override and an ex-con named Drag Strip."

"Drag Strip?" Knock Out asked, looking over at the group.

Sure enough, he spotted the yellow-and-purple bot near the front of the group, holding a sign saying 'Racing for All!' and chanting alongside a red-and-white female with a megaphone. He looked healthy, though his paint had seen better days.

"You know him?"

"Well I don't know every Con that ever was," Knock Out stated, smirking at the bug's awkward smile. "But yes, I knew him. Never shut up about himself."

"I know a few bots like that," Bumblebee said, rolling his optics. His doorwings twitched nervously as he changed the subject. "Hey, um, thank you for seeing Barricade, he's been doing much better."

"That's good to hear."

"Yeah, ah...did he...say anything to you?"

Knock Out gave a knowing look but feigned innocence. "Anything meaning...?"

"Just...you know...personal life stuff, or...you know..."

The sports car was barely able to stifle a snicker at the bug's awkward and flushed face. 

"Nothing sticks out, sorry."

Bumblebee deflated a bit.

"Oh, that's...that's fine, I'll just... _ask him myself, then_ " he muttered the last part, doorwings drooping. Knock Out let out a snort.

"Good luck with that. I should head in before all the good seats are taken."

"Alright, have fun! Let me know if anyone gives you trouble."

"Will do."

***

Bots of all kinds milled about in the lobby, creating a white noise effect. Several machines had been set up in the middle and there was a line for each one. Curious, Knock Out wandered over and stood in the shortest line. When it was his turn, he realized it was a betting machine. Two buttons at the bottom right of the screen were labeled 'Bet' and 'Custom Bet.' Images of the racers lined the screen top to bottom and their odds were listed to the right of their pictures:

**Blurr - 1:10**  
**Fasttrack - 1:1**  
**Smokescreen - 1:8**  
**Sideswipe - 1:8**  
**Hot Shot - 1:2**  
**Bluestreak - 10:8**  
**Skids - 1:2**  
**Tracks - 10:8**

Knock Out stared at Smokescreen's picture for a moment before tapping the 'Bet' button just to see how much the maximum betting limit was. It looked like the numbers stopped at 1,000, but he wasn't going to give that much. Even with his salary he preferred to save more than spend. He inhaled and tapped the button that said '50' and then selected Smokescreen's picture. The screen then lit up, saying to tap his credits chip to pay. He did so, and a betting ticket popped out from beneath the screen for him to take. Before he could move too far from the machine, someone approached him.

"Well I'll be a fake ID."

Turning, Knock Out blinked in surprise.

_"Swindle?"_

"The one and only," the con artist said, mock bowing. "No offense, but I did _not_ expect to see you again."

"Same with you. I am a little surprised to see you alone, however."

"Oh, I'm not, Vortex is with me, he's just buying merch."

"And the rest of your team?"

"They're alive, but we all kinda went our separate ways. Not much use for a Combiner in peacetime."

Knock Out was about to speak again when a taller tan-and-purple bot collided with Swindle's back. The con artist grunted but didn't fall.

 _"Ahhh, Swin_ , you will not believe what I was able to get!" Vortex squealed (almost literally). "There were several two for something sales, half-off sales, and there was this _giant_ -aft bargain on-!"

The copter blinked several times when he finally noticed the sports car.

"Oh! Hi Knock Out. How ya doin'?"

"I'm alright, and yourself?"

"A-maz-ing, thank you! I have to say, I almost didn't expect-" Suddenly he gasped and turned Swindle around to face him. _"You owe me money!"_

"You remember _that_ but can't remember to set your alarm?" Swindle asked, exasperated. 

"I only forgot, like, twice."

"More like twice a week for the past month..."

"Ahem," Knock Out coughed, bringing their attention back. "Please don't tell me you made bets on who would survive the war."

"We were drunk and bored," the con artist said. "I didn't actually expect _him_ to take it seriously."

"I'm certainly taking it seriously _now_ ," Vortex stated. "Do you have any idea how rare it is for Swin to owe me money?"

They went silent as an overhead announcement notified the crowds that the race would be starting soon. 

"Come on, KO, we'll take you to the best seats."

The sports car followed behind the two Combaticons, noting with some curiosity that they were holding hands.

***

Sitting a few rows away from the starting/finish line, Knock Out craned his neck to see where Smokescreen was in the lineup. He spotted the dark blue bot towards the middle, fidgeting and looking into the stands. Standing halfway, he waved an arm hoping to get his attention. One of the other racers noticed him first and nudged Smokescreen. He snapped his head up and met Knock Out's optics. The sports car's spark did a little flip as he watched the racer's face morph from shock to overwhelmed relief and joy. Puffing his chest and flaring his doorwings, Smokescreen gave him a confident smirk before refocusing on preparing for the race. Almost as if he'd just promised to win for him. Knock Out snorted and hid his own smile.

"So are you two a thing or...?" Swindle asked, still holding Vortex.

"No. No, we're just...hanging out," the sports car muttered, blushing faintly and not looking at either of them.

"Is that what it's being called now?" Vortex wondered aloud, sarcastic and joking.

"Shut up."

"Did you bet on him?"

"No comment, Swindle."

_"Awwwwww."_

"Shut _up_ , Vortex."

A voice boomed over the speakers announcing the race was starting. The racers finished stretching and transformed into vehicle mode, revving their engines. Knock Out unconsciously leaned forward in his seat as the countdown started. As soon as the buzzer went off, tires screeched on metal and they were off. Blurr had a clear lead but was being followed close behind by Fasttrack and Smokescreen. Sideswipe was almost tailgating Smokescreen while Hot Shot, Skids, Bluestreak and Tracks held the rear. Lap after lap was intense and Blurr was almost overtaken several times. The last lap was when things got really crazy.

Smokescreen, who looked like he'd been lagging, suddenly burst forward and passed a startled Fasttrack to line up with Blurr. The crowd was almost unbearably loud, there was so much cheering and foot stomping the whole arena shook. Knock Out wasn't sitting anymore and was now standing on his seat to keep his optics on the racers. Neck-in-neck and showing no signs of slowing, Blurr and Smokescreen stayed parallel to each other far longer than anyone anticipated. They rapidly approached the finish line, closer and closer and closer until...

They practically flew across the finish line together, skidding to a stop so hard they left tire marks on the metal, and faced each other. Smoke billowed around them as the rest of the racers drove past and stopped farther down. The crowd was going crazy but Knock Out barely heard as he watched Smokescreen and Blurr transform and stare at each other, chests heaving as if they'd been in a race for their lives. Blurr shook his head and smirked, holding out a servo. Hesitantly, Smokescreen held out his own servo and they shook. Then a giant screen in the middle of the track lit up and zoomed in on the two of them. Blurr wrapped an arm around the younger bot's shoulders and waved for the cheering crowd. Smokescreen followed suit and looked a lot less tense, giving the camera a big smile. 

Knock Out relaxed himself and smiled as well, not noticing Swindle give Vortex a knowing look.

"Not a thing my aft," the con artist said. The copter just snickered. 

***

After collecting their winnings, Knock Out and the two Combaticons lingered outside the track with a group of other bots and reporters waiting for the racers to come out. As soon as they did, they were mobbed with requests for autographs and pictures. Blurr was the clear favorite, and Knock Out cocked a brow at Swindle when he started swooning.

"Aren't you and Vortex-?"

"Oh we are," the copter cut in. "But that doesn't mean we're not interested in a third." He turned to Swindle and began poking his arm. "And we'd be a lot farther along if _someone_ would just talk to him already."

"You haven't even spoken to him."

"I'm waiting for the right time-" Swindle tried to defend himself but Vortex interrupted again. 

"Ha! He loses his ability to speak whenever the speedster so much as _looks_ at him."

"Swindle? Losing his voice?"

"I know, right? Mr. Confidence nor being able to talk to his crush. The _irony_."

Swindle groaned and hid his face. Knock Out chuckled and turned back to the racers. His spark pulsed when he saw Smokescreen moving through the crowd towards him. He stopped a few feet away, looking nervous.

"Um...h-hey Knock Out," Smokescreen said tentatively.

"Hi," the sports car replied.

"I, ah...I'm glad you're here."

"I'm glad I came. You were really impressive."

The dark blue bot blushed and smiled at the ground.

"Heh. Thanks." He looked back up and frowned at the noisy reporters.

"Listen, I just want to say I'm sorry about this morning, I-"

His vents hitched when Knock Out gently rested a claw on his hand.

"It's okay, Smokescreen. Their actions are not your fault."

The sports car couldn't help but think how cute the dark blue bot was when he blushed. Or when he smiled. Or when his doorwings fluttered happily. Or when...frag, he really _did_ have a crush on him. Before he could speak again, some reporters started walking over and asking questions. Smokescreen tensed and tried not to look annoyed, moving to block Knock Out from their vision, hands still touching. Knock Out blushed at the gesture and made up his mind.

Quickly pulling Smokescreen back, Knock Out tilted his head and kissed the dark blue bot's cheek. He ignored the camera flashes and focused on Smokescreen's stunned expression.

"What? They think we're dating anyway," he said, smirking. "Besides, it's not like I'd mind..."

He held up a finger as Smokescreen opened his mouth.

"... _if_ asked properly."

The dark blue bot let out a snort and grinned, taking both claws in his hands.

"Knock Out...will you go out with me?" he asked, sounding both confident and nervous.

"I'd be honored," the sports car replied.

He laughed when Smokescreen gave him an enthusiastic hug. Vortex whooped and Swindle half-halfheartedly smacked his arm (Knock Out low-key realized he'd forgotten they were there). He noted some of the other racers walking by, looking at him and Smokescreen while talking just above a whisper. Suddenly one of them said something that made Knock Out's spark freeze.

"Wonder how long this one will last?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If there's a favorite scene you like in the story so far and/or as I continue to update, feel free to draw it and send it my way! I might feature it on my Twitter (and here if I can figure it out)! DM me if you want to do something NSFW.


End file.
